


Divine Sacrament

by Lavavulture



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5755045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/pseuds/Lavavulture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Kink meme prompt] After he is made more human, Cole has his first heat. Alpha!Blackwall is the first to find out and he takes advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Sacrament

**Author's Note:**

> I've written some filthy-ass shit before, guys, but this is the only thing I've written that actually did make me feel a little dirty. A little. This Blackwall is fucked up.

_“And as Andraste burned in the fire, she blessed those that were faithful to her to burn as she had, not with the fire of the unfaithful but with the holy flame that showed her love for the Maker. And the Maker looked down to the sacrifice of his Bride and touched those that were faithful to him, so that they would know the signs of the sacred flame and be able to quench it in His name.”_  
\--From the Holy Scripture of Andraste

 

Blackwall was not a good man.

He knew this to be an indisputable fact. He heard it in every word he spoke and felt it in every moment he spent in Skyhold. He’d wanted to be a good man. He’d wrapped himself in the deeds of a great man and joined his sword with the greatest woman he’d ever known. He’d dreamed that perhaps by living as a Warden with the Herald at his side, he might be transformed into a good man.

But that had all come apart. The Wardens he had admired so fervently were too busy slaughtering one another to protect the weak and the woman he’d hoped to love had slipped into the bed of a truly good man, made weak with his virtue.

Blackwall watched with hooded eyes as Adaar and Cullen embraced on the ramparts above him. Cullen was handsome and strong and good. Adaar had made the right choice.

“She didn’t choose. She reached and he reached back. You never tried.”

Blackwall narrowed his eyes and took a long drink of his beer. “Leave me in peace, demon.”

“I’m not anymore,” Cole said, almost thoughtfully. Blackwall turned to see him perched on a high hay bale, his spindly long legs tucked up in the small space. “I wanted too many things that couldn’t be together without breaking so she picked a path for me. I sleep and eat and breathe. You don’t forget me.”

“I would if I could,” Blackwall said sourly but the words lacked bite. Cole spoke true enough. The Herald had changed him when she’d taken Solas, Cole, and Varric out to Redcliffe a month ago. The boy was still an unnatural creature, with a gaze that looked too deep and a mind that wasn’t like a child because even children were not so surprised by every small fact of the world. But he was no longer a demon. Blackwall didn’t know what he was.

“The scent of lilies spread over iron, she smiles and her teeth catch all the light in the room. Oh!” Cole paused and nearly blushed. “Varric says that I shouldn’t say the things that people want to forget. I can’t make you forget anymore.”

“Forgetting wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t be right. My burdens are my own and I’ll not have anyone take them from me.” Blackwall took another deep drink and set the flagon down on the table when he wanted to throw it. “I told you to leave me be.”

When he looked around again, Cole had vanished.

 

Blackwall stumbled back down to the stables, the sound of Sera’s off-key singing still ringing in his ears. She was so spirited that it was impossible to feel anything but the moment when she was around. She was young enough to be his daughter but he found it so much nicer that she was his friend.

The stable was dark when Blackwall entered it, the soft sounds of the horses his only companion. That was fine. He had no need of a big, strong Qunari woman in his bed. The Qunari didn’t even have the touch that the Maker and his Bride had bestowed on so many of their children. They rutted with no guidance save from their own leaders. How could Cullen truly feel secure as a man blessed with the Maker’s favor when his bedmate was not touched with Andraste’s grace? How could he burn for a person who would never ache with divine need for him?

There was a soft, small sound in the corner of the stables.

“Who’s there?” Blackwall said sharply. He searched in the dark for his lantern and the illumination it provided revealed Cole curled near his newest carving. The boy was shaking and sweating in the firelight, his large hat fallen to the ground beside a set of carving tools that looked just right to replace the ones that Blackwall had broken that afternoon.

“Help me,” Cole breathed and swallowed his words. He reached out a shaky hand to Blackwall and he was striding forward to take it before he could think. 

He realized his mistake right away. The unnatural heat from Cole’s skin was clear even through the bandages around his palm and Blackwall’s glove. This close Blackwall could see the flush mottling all along his neck. He could smell him, metal over fire. He dropped Cole’s hand immediately but the heat slid just as eagerly through him, slipping down until he grew hard.

“You’re marked by Andraste. She’s burning you tonight.” Blackwall rubbed his palm against his clothes, trying not to think of how long it had been since he’d lain with one of Andraste’s own during their heat, warm and wet and so willing.

“No,” Cole said, insistent and broken. His eyes were wide as he stared through Blackwall. “I don’t want this.”

“You’ve little choice in it now, lad.” Blackwall knew that he should go and fetch the talented young healer up the hill. Cole was older than most people were when they experienced their first divine heat but the procedure would be the same. He would be protected by those that were unmarked until the fire burnt itself out and then taught the potions and tricks Andraste’s chosen used to mask the signs of their mark until they found the right mate. 

He knew he should go. And yet he stayed close, watching Cole shiver and arch into himself. This was a surprise. Adaar wouldn’t understand the magnitude of what she’d done when she’d made Cole more human. She wouldn’t understand the burden she’d placed on him. Andraste’s chosen were bound by their blood to find one of the Maker’s own to cleave to, as Andraste had burned in order to cleave to her true Husband. 

But Cole was ill-equipped to understand his sacred calling. He would be vulnerable to all the most unscrupulous of the Maker’s blessed. Men and women that learned of his unnatural talents would be delighted at the prize they would receive just from obeying the natural laws. And Cole would likely be too eager to give himself to someone who approached him, out of some misguided idea that it would be helpful. 

Blackwall went down to one knee beside Cole. He didn’t reach out although his blood urged him to do just that, to wind his fist in the messy strands of Cole’s hair and pull his throat to his waiting teeth. He already ached. “You must hold strong. You’re capable of too much wickedness to be weak.”

“Some of the mages burned in the Tower, twisting and trembling when the Templars came. They didn’t give but they were punished like they had.” Cole reached out for Blackwall again, wrapping his fingers in his coat. “I cut their throats when they cried out for help.”

“Is that what you want?” Blackwall was shocked and swallowed hard until his face was stone against such folly. “That’s a waste, boy. The dead can’t make amends.”

Cole shivered again and shook his head against his words but they stuck firmly in Blackwall’s mind. Cole would be so vulnerable to those who would use his talents for evil. And the Inquisitor, ignorant as she was to the Maker’s will, would still insist on taking him with her to every village and dark temple she could find. He would be claimed by a Red Templar or a Venatori Brute in the first month and lost to them forever, trapped in obedience to someone else.

Unless.

In first second, Blackwall completely rejected the idea that came so easily to his mind as he knelt beside Cole in the dark, warm stable. Surely it would wrong. In the next second he realized how right it would be. Cole was a demon but he was capable of helping so many. He only needed the right guidance for it. And Blackwall knew how to guide. He longed for it. Together they could do so much good for the weak and the helpless. 

Together they could be stronger than the wicked creatures they were apart.

“Cole,” Blackwall began, winding his hand around the back of Cole’s neck. It was warm under his gloved hand. He pulled his hand away, ripping the glove off and returning it to his burning flesh. The bare contact was devastating; Cole moaned as though Blackwall was already deep inside him and Blackwall hardened more in anticipation.

“You want to be whole,” Cole said as he slid his other hand up to curl into folds of Blackwall’s coat, holding him in a strong grip. “Will this help?”

“Yes,” Blackwall said firmly. He began pulling off Cole’s patchwork tunic. He was lean under Blackwall’s hands and he arched into his touch. “We will help. You’ll understand later that this is for the best.”

“I don’t,” Cole started but Blackwall’s hand caressing into his lap cut him off. He gasped out a breathless moan and tried to pull away but there was only the wall of the stable behind him. “Oh!”

“Don’t struggle,” Blackwall said. “This is what we’re meant to do. I will help.”

“Yes, help me.” Cole suddenly threw himself against Blackwall, shaking like a frightened animal.

Blackwall felt relief that was bone-deep at his words. He’d tried to be so many things over the years but here finally was something that was clearly meant for him. He’d been touched by the Maker for this purpose, for this strange spirit, in order to do good.

Blackwall gently set Cole against the stable floor, kissing along his lean neck. Cole clung tighter to him and whined, already so ready for what was to come. Blackwall could feel the hard, aching proof of his desire against him as he pressed Cole harder to the straw.

“Will it stop?” Cole asked, teeth clenched. His long legs were bunched up against Blackwall’s sides like a vice. “If you—pressing in like a promise, but he was a stranger and he left before morning came and the fire still burned—please stop it.”

“It will stop,” Blackwall promised. He wouldn’t tease, wouldn’t hesitate. There would be time later to teach Cole all of the pretty things two people could do to one another. They had their lives to learn how to fulfill each other as the Maker intended.

Blackwall reached down to pull at Cole’s leathers, forcing them down pale legs that didn’t want to move from their grip around him. He allowed himself one leisurely stroke down Cole’s long cock, flushed and leaking. Cole shuddered in surprise, crying out so loud that Blackwall leaned forward to take his mouth, kissing him hard. Cole didn’t kiss him back but his slack mouth was still a warm invitation that he was eager to accept.

“Are you ready for this, boy?” Blackwall asked as kindly as his growing fervor allowed. He slipped down to feel the hot, slick proof of how ready he was. Cole gulped out breathless, little cries as he thrust his fingers into his arse. 

“Oh!” Cole was clearly too enflamed by Andraste’s touch to answer properly. Blackwall felt that fire respond in his gut at how fresh and unsullied by artifice Cole’s reactions were. There were trained Andrastan whores that couldn’t pretend to be as devout as he was in this moment.

“This is the beginning of our destiny,” Blackwall said and shakily untied his trousers, pulling out his cock. It had been so long that he was almost knotting just in his hand, which would be a grievous waste. He quickly pressed himself to Cole’s eager hole and pressed inside in one long, smooth movement.

Cole jerked in shock, fingers digging into the back of his shoulders, legs kicking at the ground. Blackwall hushed him as he thrust shallowly, gentling his frantic limbs with the hand he wasn’t using to grip his hips tightly. He kissed along his shoulders and back to his neck, worrying the skin with his teeth until he found the perfect spot for his claim. He would put it just above where Cole’s neck met his shoulder, where it would visible in his normal garb but hidden when they were more formally dressed for battle. That would be appropriate. 

“And as the Maker wills it, I take you as my own, to protect and cherish,” Blackwall said, voice strained as he felt his cock grow thick inside Cole. 

Cole didn’t respond in words, just more desperate gasps and whimpers, but that was fine. He had likely never learned the sacred words to celebrate a joining. Blackwall would teach him for his next heat. The thought of it, of the long lonely nights he never had to suffer through again, made him sink his teeth firmly into Cole’s pale flesh. That made Cole jerk again with a shriek that accompanied his release, forceful against Blackwall’s stomach. His own cock pulsed out his first release and locked tight in his body.

“It’s still in me,” Cole said after several long moments. Blackwall lifted up to look at his face. Cole’s eyes were wide and worried, his face still red. “Now you’re there—and it still burns, muted and muddled but still in me.”

“Of course.” Blackwall shifted them until they were resting somewhat comfortably on their sides. He stroked his face and was charmed when Cole lifted uncertain fingers up to his beard. “You’ll burn until the morning at least. But I will be here until it’s over.”

Cole trembled and for a moment Blackwall almost thought that he was about to cry. Blackwall pulled him close to his shoulder and let him shudder until Cole’s skin grew fever-hot again and he began rolling his hips against him, unknowingly sensual.

“I won’t leave you to suffer alone,” Blackwall promised again and went back to his work.

They joined several times throughout the night, bodies learning one another even as Cole grew ever more quiet and thoughtful during the calm moments. During one such moment, after Cole had rode Blackwall frantically into a shattering release, Cole wrapped his fingers around Blackwall’s shoulder hard.

“Will this help?” Cole asked softly. “Having me, changing me. Will it make you better?”

“Yes,” Blackwall said sleepily. He knew that he was nearly done and he hoped that Cole’s youth wouldn’t mean that his heat would last so much longer.

Cole buried his face in Blackwall’s shoulder and rubbed at the fresh scar on his neck. “All right.”

Blackwall’s eyes closed slowly and before he knew it the fresh light of day was streaming in through the stable doors. He stretched, languidly, and reached out but Cole wasn’t beside him. He sat up and looked around the stable but Cole was clearly gone. He felt a brief moment of something he couldn’t really name but he quickly smothered it with practical reasoning.

Cole would be back. They belonged to each other now. There was nowhere that he could go that Blackwall wouldn’t follow.

Blackwall settled back against the straw and daydreamed of the world he would have once the Inquisitor saved it, just him and his Maker-ordained mate helping the helpless and righting all wrongs. It would be glorious.


End file.
